


I've Got a Feeling This Year's for Me and You

by forthedefenseyourhonor



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 23:35:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5352602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forthedefenseyourhonor/pseuds/forthedefenseyourhonor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It begins when Foggy can't stand the thought of Matt spending Christmas alone in their dorm room and invites him home for the Nelson family Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Foggy sighed gently and ran a cursory hand through his hair, immersed in thought. He had been peering over the top of his laptop on and off for half an hour now trying to construct an appropriate opening line to a conversation he was certain would not go smoothly. He could see snow drifting lazily past the window, though the weather reports he had caught snippets of throughout the day promised that the fall would only get heavier during the afternoon and well into the night. Deciding finally that it was now or never, Foggy diverted his gaze back to the slightly hunched figure presented by Matt who had been sat silently poring over page after page of case notes. He teetered on the edge of speech but before the words had quite formed in his mouth Matt pushed away from the desk abruptly and stood up, saying "I think I'm gonna head out and get a coffee; you want one?"

  
The spark of the question glowing at the edge of Foggy's mind was extinguished.

  
"Oh, uh..no, thanks I'm good," he responded quickly, hiding his disappointment at missing another opportunity to have the conversation he'd been meaning to for days.

  
"Alright, I'll be back soon then," Matt said, mid-way through donning hat and scarf.

  
"Hey, be careful out there," Foggy added; Matt paused as he reached the door, cane in hand, "The snow's started already, it could be slippy."

  
Matt smirked, "Thanks, I'll, uh, watch my step."

  
He turned back to the door and left the chilly dorm room, shutting the door gently behind him. Foggy could hear the cane tapping away down the corridor and thought sheepishly that he should have offered to accompany Matt across campus in the inclement conditions. He'd seen his roommate move with ease around their room and, now Foggy thought more carefully about it, he hadn't ever seen Matt trip or even misstep whilst walking around campus. Matt didn't need or want looking after but Foggy could already feel the twinge of guilt turning into a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  
"Ahh, fuck it," he muttered, swinging himself off the bed. He grabbed a coat and hat and hurried out the door after his friend.

* * *

It took him longer to catch up with Matt than he had thought - the man had managed to get more than half way to their favorite coffee shop and, whilst the snow was still only falling lightly, the wet sidewalks were slick underfoot. Foggy wondered how Matt had managed it, given than he himself had slipped twice whilst chasing after the tap-tap-tap of the cane.

  
"Changed your mind?" Matt said, smiling as Foggy moved alongside him, panting slightly.

  
"Jesus, Matt. How did you get all the way across here so fast?"

  
Matt raised his eyebrows in mock-scorn at the blasphemy.

  
"I guess I just really, really want a coffee," he said, a hint of a laugh playing in his voice. "Not struggling to keep up with a blind man in the snow are you, Foggy?"

  
"You had a head start! And I felt bad about you scooting around out here on your own but I can see that my services are clearly not required!"

  
Foggy made to turn on his heel in a display of pretend pomp and circumstance but Matt reached out and managed to catch hold of the crook of his elbow, spinning them back into step.

  
"Thanks, buddy. I appreciate it."

Foggy grinned and carried on their march toward the cafe, still catching his breath slightly. They walked in silence for a minute or two, Foggy directing them in and out between the steady trickle of students making their way across campus. Many were puffing, carrying heavy bags stuffed with books and papers or dirty washing to be taken home where there were no extortionate laundrette fees to be paid for clean clothing.

  
"Hey, Matt," he said suddenly, deciding to take the plunge. "What do you, uh, usually do over Christmas?"

  
He felt Matt's posture change and knew he had stiffened in response to the question. It was to be expected, he thought. Perhaps he should have waited for a more opportune moment but fortune favors the bold, he mused.

  
"Well," Matt started cautiously, and Foggy could tell he was measuring his response. He knew how Matt felt about being on the receiving end of sympathy and would look to avoid Foggy's with the answer he provided. "At the orphanage we used to attend Midnight Mass and then other services throughout the day...you know, a lot of singing and candles and prayer. I wasn't alone, if that's what you're wondering."

  
"And so what are you planning to do this year?"

  
"Uhh," Matt paused and briefly let go of Foggy's arm to push his glasses a little further back up his nose. "I guess it'll be more of the same."

  
Matt was deliberately keeping his answers civil. Polite, but closed.

  
"So you're just going to sit in that freezing cold little room all holiday, alone, until you go to sit on an uncomfortable old bench for a few hours and sing some songs?"

  
"They're called pews, Foggy, an-"

  
"Nope! Say no more! I won't allow it!" Foggy cut across him, "No offence, dude, but that sounds like the most boring Christmas ever."

  
"Well, I mean, it's not like I'll be sitting doing nothing. In case you'd forgotten, we've got three assignments due straight after the holidays."

  
"Pfft, forget all that for now! Christmas is for relaxing! Eating, drinking, being merry - the whole shabang! Look," and Foggy moved in to walk a little closer to his friend, "there's always room at the Nelson family Christmas table -"

  
"Oh, uh-"

  
"- plus," Foggy plowed on, "my family would literally crucify me if they found out I abandoned my blind, orphaned roommate to a lonesome Christmas in a dorm room."

  
Matt's face twisted slighty.

  
"C'mon," Foggy pleaded as they rounded the corner to the cafe. "It'll be fun, I promise."

  
Matt let out a slightly exasperated noise, halfway between a groan and a sigh, as Foggy held the cafe door open.

  
"Foggy, it's not that I don't appreciate the offer but honestly I don't want to intrude."

  
Foggy fixed Matt with a withering look, well aware that it would not have the desired effect, but before he could work out the best way to move the conversation forward the barista had asked Matt what he wanted to drink and all thought of conversation was lost momentarily to deciding between the various festive drinks on offer. After collecting their incorrectly-named, overpriced coffees ("Soy latte for Max!" and "Caramel macchiato for Bobby!") Foggy followed Matt over to a table by the window.

Normally they would take their drinks to go, meandering back across campus and appreciating the warmth seeping through paper cups on to cold hands, but the snow was already beginning to fall more heavily and navigating the slippery sidewalks with hot coffee in hand seemed foolhardy. Fairytale of New York began playing softly over the soundsystem and Foggy smiled as the two baristas started a dramatic lip-synced rendition behind the counter. The cafe was quiet, most students were busy packing or had already headed home for the holidays, and so Foggy watched the baristas' impassioned performance uninterrupted for a minute, waiting for his coffee to cool.

Another customer came in and he turned his attention back to Matt, whose face was turned to the window as though watching the snow fall. He looked deep in thought and so Foggy sipped at his coffee instead of disturbing Matt's reverie. In the short time since the start of term the two of them had become fast friends but Foggy often got the impression that Matt was waiting for the day when Foggy would ditch him for someone "better". He supposed that Matt's life so far had been filled with temporary people and places, and so he had closed off the part of him that allowed people to get close. Foggy was happy to let Matt take all the time he needed to open up but the thought of him spending three weeks alone in their bleak dorm room pierced Foggy's heart.

  
"Hey," he said, finally breaking the silence between them. Matt jerked his head back round to face Foggy.

  
"Look, I get that we haven't known each other that long but you're my friend and I just hate the idea of you being here alone. If you really, really don't wanna come that's fine but I promise you're not inconveniencing anyone. We've got a camp bed and plenty of room _and_ , believe it or not, my mom manages to make more food than even I can manage."

  
Matt's brow furrowed slightly and Foggy could almost hear the internal conflict taking place behind the dark glasses. 

  
"You don't have to stay the whole holiday, y'know, if you want to study," Foggy added. "Just come for a week! You deserve a break." 

  
“Um, sure. OK,” Matt said tentatively after a few moments. "I'd like that."

  
Foggy beamed and reached across the table to place a hand on Matt’s forearm.

  
“This is gonna be so good, buddy.”

  
Matt’s face broke into a wide smile and Foggy felt a warmth spread through him that was nothing to do with the coffee.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter (hardly a "chapter" - it's not that long) is a lot more descriptive than the last so I hope it's not too much of a slog to read.  
> I've half-written the next part so there will be a third chapter soon.

Matt awoke with a start, disoriented, his heart racing. He was lost in the sea of silence around him. It was a few moments before his senses caught up and his surroundings swam back into focus. Steadying his breathing, he allowed the faint sounds and smells of the house to come together to form a clearer picture. It was Christmas Eve and he was at Foggy’s house. No one else was yet awake. About two feet to his left he could hear Foggy snuffling in his sleep and the springs of the ancient camp bed stretching and contracting in time with his breathing. Matt focused on the steady rhythm of Foggy’s heartbeat, the only familiar sound in this unfamiliar place. The Nelsons had long since left behind the constant smells and sounds of Hell’s Kitchen for the leafy suburbs of Middletown, New Jersey and Matt found the quietude of the house slightly unsettling. He had heard no sirens in the time since they had arrived, only the constant hum of the highway in the distance and the wind rustling the branches of the pines beyond the fence at the back of the yard. In the day Matt been able hear the goings-on of the neighbors but, instead of the organized chaos he had listened to at the orphanage or the raucous mixture of noises overheard in college dorms, it was the joyful excitement of families at Christmas. He felt that it should have been soothing but the unfamiliarity of the noises kept him on edge. All was quiet now, however.

Reaching across to the nightstand he felt for his watch, flicked up the protective glass and ran his fingers lightly across the face. 6:50 am. It was still early, though he doubted he would be able to get back to sleep. He had been dreaming but now that he tried to recall the dream it slipped out of memory more quickly than before. Rolling back over, Matt tried to savor the peace and quiet. He was grateful that Foggy had invited him to spend Christmas with his family and glad he had accepted the offer. After Matt had agreed to come back to New Jersey, Foggy had called his parents and arranged for the two of them to be picked up on the day before Christmas Eve. He had overheard the conversation; Foggy assuring his mother that nothing was wrong and that he just had work that needed to be done away from what he had described as the “hustle and bustle” of a Nelson family Christmas. Matt knew Foggy had decided to hang back in the city to keep him company and he was quietly grateful. They had both solemnly sworn to spend the extra time making progress with their assignments but, in reality, Foggy had spent most of the week leading up to their departure watching an array of Christmas movies of wildly variable quality whilst attempting to provide an audio description for Matt. Smiling to himself, Matt remembered Foggy trying and failing to explain the intricate details of Macaulay Culkin’s improvized burglar traps in Home Alone which resulted in the two of them doubled over with laughter, Foggy gasping to continue his descriptions as various traps and contraptions befuddled the villains. Neither of them had got much work done.

Collecting Foggy and Matt from the city was apparently a family affair and so, when the time came to leave campus, the two of them had crammed into the back of the car with Foggy’s younger sister, Charlotte. She chatted cheerfully to Matt and Foggy for the entire journey about what they had been studying in their first semester, and what she had been learning in school, and her soccer team, and a myriad of other topics. Foggy’s parents were both witty and quick to laugh, bouncing off each other in a succession of quips and jokes. Their relationship was like nothing Matt had ever known.

Lying still in the quiet of the house Matt wondered what it might have been like to grow up as part of a family like Foggy’s. He tried to imagine himself returning home to a warm house with friends and family at Christmas, but found instead that he could no longer truly recall what his father looked like. He shook himself mentally and tried to move on from the childish fancy. His thoughts drifted instead to Foggy and how lucky he had been to have been assigned to the same room as him. Sure, he had found living in such close quarters with someone new stressful at first but soon everything about Foggy’s presence had become a familiar comfort. Matt had never had a friend like him; someone who cared and wanted him to be happy, and who could see past his apparent disability. Suddenly, a memory came to the surface of his mind, unbidden. It had been years now but the derision in Stick’s voice was as sharp in memory as it had been when he was a child.

“You can’t rely on anyone in this world, Matty. You think these _friends_ will stick around when shit gets tough? Friends make you weak. Lose ‘em.”

He sat up and felt for his glasses on the nightstand. There was little to be gained from staying in bed dredging up the past. If he couldn’t sleep, Matt thought, he may as well find his case notes and carry on studying. He slipped out of bed and moved over to where his bag sat on the floor, rummaging through it as quietly as possible. He found a sweater and some socks and pulled them both on and then, grabbing his notes and cane with one hand, he crept towards the door.

“Wheredyathinkyouregoing?” came a sudden grumble from the camp bed.

“Can’t sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you up, sorry.”

Foggy pushed himself up slowly, the springs of the bed screeching in protest.

“Jesus, what time is it, Matt? It’s pitch black still.”

“Uh, nearly seven I think,” Matt offered apologetically. “Sorry.”

Foggy groaned.

“Damn these winter mornings. Well, I can’t possibly let you go sneaking off to do work at 7 am.”

Matt shifted the folder containing his notes.

“C’mon,” Foggy said, “I’ll make breakfast.”

Matt smiled and held out his hand, which Foggy took gratefully to pull himself up from the low camp bed. They made their way downstairs and Matt pushed away the memory of Stick and his disdain for friendship, feeling his heart skip a little as he listened to Foggy gleefully debate with himself about what they should eat.


	3. Chapter 3

Christmas Eve had involved meeting the rest of Foggy’s family, and there were a lot of them. Matt had been introduced to two sets of grandparents, two aunts, three uncles, and five cousins. Foggy’s aunt Catherine had been particularly keen to get Matt better acquainted with her daughter, Maria, who was studying business at NYU. Maria was nice enough, Matt had thought. She was softly spoken, thoughtful and intelligent. He could feel the heat rise in her cheeks as she spoke to him and hear the smile in her voice, but it was tinged with pity as well. Every conversation Matt had was tainted with sorrow for the boy who had lost his sight and a gratitude, which most people would not admit even to themselves, that their vision was still intact. So he had made conversation with Maria, comparing workloads and living conditions, and overhearing whispers between Foggy’s mother and aunt about how handsome and marriageable he was, how maybe finally Maria would be able to date someone who could challenge her intellectually. It had been a relief when Foggy had finally rescued him with a shout from the kitchen.

  
“Hey, Matt! Get in here a minute!”

  
Offering what he hoped was a gracious smile and an apology to Maria, Matt fumbled for his cane and made his dash for freedom.

  
“What’s up?” he asked, pushing the door to as he squeezed into the kitchen.

  
“Nothing,” Foggy grinned, “I just thought you might wanna tap out from pretending to care about Maria’s assignments for a minute.”

  
Matt smiled. He had never detected that same hint of pity in Foggy’s voice and he relished the time they spent together. He knew that somewhere, deep inside, Foggy probably felt sympathy for him but he took care never to let it show.

  
“Uhh, yeah, thanks.”

  
“I think Catherine’s gunning for a summer wedding, y’know,” Foggy teased.

  
Matt laughed.

  
“C’mon, we’ll grab something to eat and hang out in here for a bit. Luckily for you there are enough Nelsons to hide your absence for at least half an hour.”

  
In fact, they managed to remain undiscovered in the kitchen for nearly 45 minutes before Foggy’s howl of laughter at a particularly lewd comment from Matt attracted his mother into the room.

  
“There you two are,” she said with the slightest hint of disapproval as they failed to stifle their laughter. “Franklin, the kids are looking for you and I need the kitchen now, so you’ll have to scram and find somewhere else to cause trouble. Go on!”

  
She ushered them out of the kitchen and began clattering pots and pans about in preparation for dinner. Still chuckling, Foggy directed himself and Matt to two empty foldaway chairs tucked into the corner of the living room. Matt could tell that Maria was watching him whilst talking to her grandmother and he cast around for something to begin talking to Foggy about so as not to sit in awkward silence. At that moment, the two youngest of Foggy’s cousins came barrelling into the living room, noses and cheeks flushed pink from the biting cold outside.

  
“Foggy!” Ben panted, “Come see the snowman we built! Pleeeeease!”

  
“Please! Please! Please!” begged Juliet.

  
“A snowman?! Well, lead the way, there’s no time to lose!”

  
Foggy stood up.

  
“You coming?” he directed at Matt, “I can describe the masterpiece to you.”

  
“Of course, I wouldn’t want to miss out.”

  
Maria had reached a lull in conversation with her grandmother and Matt could feel her gaze moving over him. He wasn’t keen to be cornered by her again and so jumped at the opportunity to get out of the living room, even if it meant going out into the cold. They got wrapped up in full winter raiment, Matt took hold of Foggy’s arm, and they headed out to the backyard. Although it had not snowed since they had arrived, the neighbourhood was still trapped under a blanket of white that crunched underfoot. Matt could feel the weak warmth of the afternoon sun on his face, though the air was still bitterly cold. Ben and Juliet were stood proudly on either side of their creation and Foggy let out a low whistle as they approached it.

  
“Wow, guys, this is a _serious_ snowman!”

  
The cousins giggled and from behind them Matt could hear the faint sound of snow scratching on wool. He wondered if Foggy knew he was about to be on the receiving end of a surprise snowball attack. Matt racked his brain for an excuse to move away from Foggy, rapidly. He had no real objections to being hit with a snowball but he was fairly certain Foggy’s mom could see into the yard from the kitchen window and he could only imagine the trouble Ben and Juliet would be landed in for hitting Foggy’s blind college roommate in a snowball ambush. Before he’d managed to open his mouth, however, there was a yell and two surprisingly well-aimed snowballs found their mark; one hitting Foggy in the chest and the other landing somewhere around his midriff. Foggy yelped and twisted, pulling his elbow from Matt’s loose grip. Matt had not brought his cane outside with him and was thrown off balance by the sudden movement but Foggy was clearly intent on revenge and did not reposition himself by Matt’s side. There was a frantic five minute two-on-one battle which involved a lot of yelling and poorly-directed launching of snowballs around the yard. There was a surprising amount of chaos for something that only involved three people and so Matt managed to move quickly back towards the house without drawing attention to himself. Eventually Foggy was cornered between a bench and a large tree, his cousins advancing on him, snowballs in each hand.

   
“You’ll never take me alive!” Foggy yelled and, making what was obviously meant to be a valiant last stand, he leapt over the bench with an armful of snowballs which he began pelting seemingly at random around the garden.

  
Matt sensed, as though in slow motion, the handful of snow soaring through the air on a direct collision course with him. Pretending not to know when a hit was coming was something he had spent years mastering at the orphanage but it did not make the experience any more pleasant, especially when there was a wet ball of cold snow making its way rapidly towards his head. Foggy had thrown the snowball with some considerable force and it nearly knocked the glasses clean off Matt’s face. He staggered and caught himself on the door frame. The yard fell silent and then the kitchen window was flung open with a clatter and an accompanying scream.

  
“FRANKLIN NELSON!”

  
“It was an accident!” Foggy dropped his few remaining snowballs and hurried over to Matt, who was chuckling and flicking watery snow from his glasses before replacing them.

  
“Shit, I am so sorry, dude. Are you OK?”

  
“Franklin! Language!” came another yell from the open window.

  
“Sorry, mom! Seriously, are you all right?” he said, brushing snow from Matt’s shoulder and hair.

  
“I’m fine,” Matt laughed. “Just collateral damage. This is war, after all.”

  
Foggy relaxed and gave a soft laugh.

  
Turning back towards his cousins he said, “Well, I guess I have to admit defeat! Even though you did play dirty and lure me into a trap!”

  
They both laughed and ran back inside.

  
Foggy offered Matt his arm.

  
“We should get back inside as well, you must be freezing.”

  
“I think you still owe me a description of this sensational snowman, Foggy. It’s the least you can do to make up for hitting an innocent bystander in the face with a snowball.”

  
Foggy laughed, “Fair’s fair, I guess!”

  
They took a couple of steps forward until they were stood directly in front of the snowman.

  
“Well, he’s pretty tall. I’d guess about...” Foggy sized up the snowman, “...probably four feet. He needs to get to the gym though, he’s more rotund than I am and his arms aren’t much better than sticks!”

  
They both laughed and Matt heard Foggy’s mom pull the kitchen window shut, clearly satisfied that she wouldn’t have to tell Foggy off again.

  
“What’s the yard like?” Matt asked. “I’ve never really been to a house with a proper yard.”

  
“Well,” Foggy said, moving them away from the snowman now, “it’s pretty big, almost square but it’s a little longer than it is wide. There’s a tall wooden fence that goes all the way round – you have to have that otherwise you get deer coming in, trashing the place.”

  
Matt smiled.

  
“So here,” Foggy continued, “this is a tree...um, I’m not a botanist, I don’t know what type of tree. It’s big so it’s probably pretty old. There’s a bench in front of it, my mom likes to sit here and read in the summer.”

  
Foggy walked Matt all the way around the perimeter of the garden, describing the flowers that were there in spring and in summer, and the games he and his sister used to play when they were younger. Matt moved his hand from the back of Foggy’s arm and hooked it gently in the crook of his elbow instead. Foggy’s heartbeat, still rapid from running around with his cousins, picked up slightly but he gave no indication that anything was amiss and continued telling Matt about the climbing plants that grew along in the fence in summer. Matt felt a lurch in his stomach and realized his own heart rate had increased alongside Foggy’s. He had never experienced a friendship like Foggy’s before but he wasn’t entirely sure it was meant to feel like this. The smile slid from his face.

  
“Hey, you OK, buddy?” Foggy asked, sounding concerned.

  
“Oh, yeah, just cold. Should we head back inside?”

  
“Yeah, sure.”

  
They headed back past the snowman and to the back door where they bashed snow from their boots and peeled off the numerous layers they had added for the excursion outdoors, sweating slightly in the overwhelming heat of the house.

  
“Stay close,” Foggy said, offering his arm again, “I fully anticipate another assault from Catherine and Maria once we get back in there.”

  
Matt could hear that he was smirking.

  
“Yeah, well just make sure I don’t end up marooned between them at dinner,” Matt said quietly, “I have a feeling your aunt can be very persuasive and I could end up engaged to be married before I know what’s happening.”

  
Foggy laughed and raised his right hand.

 

“I, Franklin Nelson, do promise to protect you, Matthew Murdock, and your eligible bachelor status from my meddling aunts. So help me God.”

  
Laughing, they made their way back into the living room and, upon finding their previous seats occupied, squashed close together onto the end of one of the sofas where Matt tried his hardest to ignore his heart now hammering in time with Foggy’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure about whether to write about Christmas Day or whether to skip to the post-Christmas bit that's already half-formed in my mind - opinions on a postcard, please!


	4. Chapter 4

Christmas morning brought more snow to Middletown. The sky was brilliant white and large snowflakes drifted serenely around the house. Foggy had woken up to find that Matt was already out of bed. He sat up slowly, stretching, and spotted a note resting on top of the covers by his feet.

_Gone to church – will be back before 10._

_Matt._

He had never seen Matt’s handwriting before. Foggy wondered how long it had taken him to write the note; the letters were unevenly spaced but Matt had clearly taken great care to make the message legible. Foggy smiled and tucked it away with his case notes which had, thus far, remained completely untouched. He checked his watch and saw that it was just after half past nine. If he hurried he could go and meet Matt. They had looked up times and directions to the church the night before after Matt had mentioned that he would like to attend a service. Foggy had offered to go with him but Matt had shifted uncomfortably at the idea. His religion was something private. However, this hadn’t stopped Foggy feeling guilty about the idea of Matt navigating the unfamiliar streets alone, especially with the fresh snowfall. There would be no harm in going to meet him for the walk back.

Foggy showered and dressed quickly before heading downstairs. He poked his head into the kitchen where his parents were having their morning coffee – Charlotte was clearly not out of bed yet.

“Happy Christmas,” he smiled, “I’m just gonna go meet Matt at the church, I won’t be long.”

His mother looked scandalized.

“You let him walk there alone? In this weather?”

“He snuck out while I was sleeping! Plus, you haven’t seen the way he gets around, I’m sure he’s fine.”

Foggy’s parents fixed him with matching scolding looks and he scurried off towards the front door before they could chastise him any further. He could tell himself and his parents all he wanted that Matt didn’t need anyone’s help to get around but that didn’t stop him from feeling like a bad friend for letting Matt make his way around a neighbourhood he didn’t know with nothing but his cane and a set of directions.

Closing the door behind him, Foggy soaked up the silence of the world for a moment. A trail of footprints and arced trenches in the snow led away from the house and off down the street. The fresh snowfall was already beginning to fill in Matt’s tracks and so Foggy set off at a brisk pace. The church was only a couple of blocks away but it was bitterly cold and Foggy did not want to stay outdoors for longer than was strictly necessary. He turned a corner, still following in Matt's wake, and spotted the church on the next block. A plow had been down this street but the snow was already beginning to cover the asphalt again. There were more footprints on the sidewalk here too but the deep gouges in the snow from Matt's cane were still distinctive. As Foggy got closer to the church he saw a stream of people begin to start filing out of the doors. He hurried the last few hundred meters to the gate and peered through the crowd to see if he could spot Matt. 

He was just starting to shiver slightly and the flow of people passing through the gates was dwindling when he spotted Matt coming down the church steps. 

"Hey, Matt!" Foggy called as he got nearer. 

Matt made his way over to where Foggy was now stood. 

"Hey. Happy Christmas, Foggy"

"Happy Christmas, buddy. C'mere," he said pulling Matt into a hug. 

Matt smiled as they broke apart and traced his hand along the back of Foggy's arm, settling it in the crook of his elbow as he had the previous afternoon. The gesture had made Foggy's heart leap then and it had the same effect now. He knew it was just one of Matt's small ways of showing their friendship, a step away from the formality of a gentle grip on the back of his arm, but it set his mind racing nonetheless. 

"Didn't trust me to make it back on my own then?" Matt smirked as they moved away from the church gates. 

"What can I say, Murdock? You're a liability!"

They both laughed. In the few months they had known each other, Foggy had proven to be far more accident-prone than Matt especially if alcohol was involved.

"So, how was church? Lots of singing and candles?" Foggy asked as they began to make their way home. 

Matt chuckled. 

"Yeah, something like that.”

They walked quietly for a moment, Foggy taking in the picturesque backdrop of the houses in the snow.

“It looks like something out of a postcard along here today,” Foggy remarked, glancing at Matt.

Matt tilted his head ever so slightly in Foggy’s direction, the corners of his mouth turning in a faint smile that Foggy knew was the go-ahead for him to describe the scene. When they had first met, Foggy had never considered that Matt might want things describing to him. Shortly after the semester had started he had made an offhand comment as they had walked across campus about the colors of the fall leaves and Matt's face had fallen. After a few moments of silence he had quietly asked Foggy if he would describe them to him. At first it had felt fumbling and awkward, patronizing even. But the broad smile that had broken across Matt's face, that Foggy could see extending to his eyes even behind the glasses, had encouraged him to persevere and soon the running commentary had become just another part of their routine.

They turned the corner back onto Foggy’s street.

“The snow is pretty much untouched here,” Foggy began, “Apart from _someone_ tearing up the place with a cane.”

Matt chuckled.

“Most of the houses have got their Christmas lights on, mostly in the windows but some along the roofs as well. This one on the left has got lights in the big tree in the front yard, it looks almost magical.”

Foggy looked across at Matt, saw that same wide smile and, not for the first time, felt butterflies in his stomach.

“A few of the houses have obviously got fires going – you can smell it – but the smoke is puffing out of the chimneys as well. They look kind of like giant gingerbread houses, actually.”

Matt chuckled again and then stopped as they stepped onto the driveway.

"Hey," he said, as Foggy turned to face him. 

He moved his hand down Foggy's forearm and for one exhilarating, dizzying moment Foggy thought Matt was going to take hold of his hand. Matt drew his hand away, however, and pushed his glasses up his nose. There were snowflakes beginning to melt in his hair and suddenly Foggy could feel his heart in his throat. 

"Thanks, Foggy, for inviting me for Christmas. It really means a lot."

"Hey, don't mention it," Foggy replied. He felt as though he'd forgotten how smiling was meant to work and was slightly relieved Matt couldn't see the grimace he had given in place of a friendly smile. 

"Let's get back inside," he said, clapping Matt on the arm and cringing at his awful attempt to act natural. 

They hurried back indoors, thankful for the warmth, and headed to the kitchen where Foggy’s mom was now busy cooking breakfast. Foggy sat down opposite Matt at the kitchen table and cursed himself internally. How could he be so foolish as to allow himself to develop a crush on his roommate? His mind went into overdrive as he imagined the inevitable path their friendship would take: some ham-handed attempts at flirting on his part, no doubt whilst drunk; Matt realizing what was going on and making polite rebuttals so as not to hurt his feelings; gradually drifting apart; and then eventually no longer being friends. Foggy swallowed the bitter feelings at the back of his throat and laughed half-heartedly at something he had only vaguely heard his mother say. He carefully avoided looking at Matt, choosing instead to gaze at the snow still falling past the window. He would not allow himself to ruin this friendship. A good New Year’s resolution, he thought: get over this ridiculous crush on Matt Murdock and continue living your life as though it had never happened. Foggy sighed. It was worth a try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This really didn't turn out as shiny-happy-Christmassy as I had originally intended...sorry! I have one more chapter to go, hopefully with less angst.
> 
> Happy Holidays!


	5. Chapter 5

They had ended up spending a little longer than a week at the Nelson’s house and, whilst Matt had been grateful not to have spent Christmas alone, he was pleased to get back to a space he could call his own. It was getting late when they arrived back in the city on New Year’s Eve and their dorm room was unpleasantly cold. Shivering, they spent the time which they had meant to use unpacking huddled on the end of Matt’s bed by the ancient space heater drinking hot chocolate. They had both been invited to see the new year in with a group of other law students who were planning on heading to Times Square. Matt had politely declined: he disliked crowds at the best of times but combined with alcohol and the excessive use of pyrotechnics associated with New Year’s Eve celebrations he didn’t think it was something he could stand. Foggy had looked pained at Matt’s decision and was clearly wrestling with wanting to go out and celebrate and not being a bad friend, leaving his roommate to fester alone in their room. Matt had decided that a degree of honesty on his part was required.

“Look, Foggy, I hate New Year’s Eve for the same reason I hate the fourth of July,” he had said as they tried desperately to warm their hands over the heater. “I can’t _see_ the fireworks so I can’t tell when there’s going to be a bang and it’s disorienting. There’s so much noise and so many people I have no idea what’s going on.”

He had omitted the details of exactly how jarring the explosions from fireworks really were, how each crack and screech felt like a blow to the head that sent him reeling and obscured his senses.

“I’ll be there, though,” Foggy had offered. “Y’know, you can hold my arm like you normally do.”

“Foggy,” Matt laughed, “You can barely support yourself when you’re drunk, let alone the both of us! I promise you, I’m not going to be missing out on anything. You go, have fun, and have a drink for me.”

And so, come 9 pm, Foggy had left the dorm room with one last lingering look at Matt who had paused in reading his case notes to offer a smile of encouragement. He listened to Foggy walk away down the corridor, greet the rest of the group at the bottom of the stairwell, and then head out into the night. Matt found his headphones and picked up where he had left off listening to one of his criminal law lectures. Through the monotony of the professor’s voice he could hear the beginnings of three different parties in various dorm rooms; people talking and laughing, and the low rumble of speakers with the bass turned up too high.  He tried to focus on the slightly crackling voice talking about the threshold of culpability and _mens rea_ coming through the earpieces. He had learned early on in college that allowing his senses to roam much past the four walls he called his own often revealed a private side of campus life into which he did not want to delve.

Matt began to type slowly, finally making a start on one of the assignments that both he and Foggy had been neglecting. The essay was hard work. Every time he paused writing to hunt down a reference or date the sounds of the parties taking place around the building seeped in through the headphones, becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. After hearing the unmistakable sound of shattering glass and the ironic cheer that followed it, Matt sighed and lifted his glasses to rub his eyes. He was tired, but the chances of him getting any sleep until well past midnight seemed slim. Heaving another sigh, he clicked the volume of the lecture a little higher. He could still feel the noise of the nearest of the parties vibrating through the walls and floor and up through the legs of his desk. Resolutely, he continued typing.

He had made a reasonable start on an introduction and was just beginning to write a paragraph about the first point in his essay plan when the rattling of keys outside the door made him jump. He yanked the headphones from his ears as the door opened and Foggy re-entered the room. He had not heard the footsteps approaching over the combined sounds of the parties and his recorded lecture and was not used to the sensation of being sneaked up on.

“You’re back early,” Matt said, turning to face Foggy. He guessed that it could not yet be 11 o’clock. “You forget something?”

Foggy smelled of cheap beer and tequila, though nothing in his movement suggested he was anything more than a little tipsy. He pushed the door shut and Matt caught a hint of a woman’s perfume clinging to his collar. Foggy groaned as he flopped down, fully dressed, onto his bed, bottles clinking in a plastic bag held in his right hand. Matt inclined his head towards Foggy, trying to read him. His heart rate was elevated, even more so than it usually was after the two flights of stairs up to their floor.

“Hey, you OK, buddy?”

“Yeah, just...” he huffed slightly and sat back up on the bed. “Well, you know what those guys can be like...”

Matt knew. Columbia was full of obnoxious students with rich parents and a chip on their shoulder and the people Foggy had gone out with were no different. Obnoxiousness, however, often gave way to nastiness when alcohol was involved and Foggy’s good nature and less-than prestigious Hell’s Kitchen upbringing often singled him out as the butt of all jokes. Matt guessed that he was only spared the same level of public humiliation by his blindness. He did not doubt however that he was discussed behind closed doors and out of earshot. Anger bubbled up in his chest and Matt clenched his fist slightly.

“You shouldn’t listen to them, Foggy...”

“I know,” he said, sounding surprisingly chipper. He shrugged slightly and continued, “It wasn’t so bad, actually. I just suddenly realized that I like you a lot more than those guys and New Year’s is about, y’know, celebrating a new start with people you care about.”

Matt smiled and felt a slight flush creeping into his cheeks.

“So,” Foggy said, and Matt could hear that he was smiling too, “We’re gonna get drunk in here where there’s no crowds, no fireworks, and no more excuses from you about needing to do work.”

They both laughed and Matt abandoned his essay to move to the end of Foggy’s bed, graciously accepting the bottle of beer that Foggy pressed into his hand.

“This is little fancier than your usual fare, Foggy,” Matt said, smirking after swallowing a mouthful of the beer. It was rich and hoppy, with less of the acrid tang of the cheap canned beer they usually drank. Foggy laughed and clinked his bottle against Matt’s.

“Only the best for you, my friend!”

Foggy had only bought four bottles of beer and so they were quickly gone, replaced by mugs of vodka and juice. Completely sober, neither of them would have considered this a good follow-up to beer but with a slight buzz already underway it seemed like a logical progression. Matt was sitting with one leg tucked underneath him and the other dangling from the edge of the bed, facing Foggy who was cross-legged and propped against the headboard. The world around Matt seemed closer and softer when he had been drinking; the noises of the parties elsewhere now seemed distant and unimportant, he could feel warmth from Foggy’s body seeping into the air and could hear his heartbeat, rapid and strong, as clearly as if it were being broadcast into the room. Matt made to lean across to the bedside the table to grab the bottle of vodka but misjudged quite how far away it was and slipped sideways off the bed. The pair of them burst into laughter, Matt sitting crumpled on the floor. Foggy grabbed hold of Matt’s outstretched hand and hauled him back onto the bed.

“Budge over,” Matt said, shoving Foggy lightly with his shoulder and settling against the headboard.

Foggy shifted across the bed slightly and then leaned across Matt to grab the bottle on the bedside table. Time seemed to stretch impossibly, the seconds inching past, as Foggy allowed his weight to fall momentarily across Matt’s lap.

He made a noise of triumph as he sat back up and said, “Top up, good sir?”

“Um, yeah, thanks” Matt said quickly, releasing a breath he had not been aware he was holding.

“It’s almost midnight, gotta have a drink in your hand!” Foggy said as he sloshed a very generous measure of vodka into Matt’s mug.

Matt could hear fireworks being set off in the distance, presumably by people with itchy fingers and watches set a few minutes too fast, but currently nothing was holding his attention more than the hammering of Foggy’s heart in sync with his own. Foggy topped off the vodka with orange juice. Outside, the bells began to chime in the university clock tower signalling midnight.

“Happy New Year, Foggy.”

Foggy twisted slightly towards Matt. 

"Happy New Year, buddy!" 

He clinked their mugs together and said, "Bottoms up!"

They were quiet for a moment as they gulped down the caustic mixture, surrounded by the continued clanging of the clock tower and booming fireworks. Matt shuddered involuntarily as he lowered the mug and, hearing a noise of disgust from Foggy, chuckled softly. His surroundings felt fuzzy and distant but he was acutely aware of how close he and Foggy were now sat on the bed; Foggy's leg resting lightly against his own and the hand Matt was propping himself up with on the bed between them. Foggy was still facing him and Matt was could feel his gaze raking over his face. Propping his mug by his legs on the bed, Matt raised a hand and took off his glasses. He reached for the words he wanted to say but none of them came into fruition. Foggy spoke instead. 

"Hey, I just wanted to say I...I'm glad you're my friend, y'know..."

Foggy patted Matt gently on the thigh, but then let his hand rest where it was. Matt could feel the heat from Foggy's palm on his leg as though it were a brand and suddenly everything that wasn't Foggy was white noise. Matt leaned very slightly closer, inclining his head toward Foggy. 

"Yeah...me too."

He paused and heard Foggy give a short, sharp exhale that Matt knew meant he had broken into a smile. Matt smiled too and raised his hand to meet Foggy's chin, tracing his fingers along his jaw and into Foggy's hair as they both leant closer. All Matt could hear were heartbeats and he could no longer tell which belonged to him and which to Foggy. It didn’t matter. His lips met Foggy’s and there was nothing else left in the world but the two of them. He moved his hand to the nape of Foggy’s neck; Foggy moved his hand up Matt’s thigh, settling on his hip. They broke apart, smiling uncontrollably and catching breath, until Foggy tumbled forward and they were kissing again. The sounds of celebrations continued late into the night but nothing beyond the walls of room 312 had seemed to matter very much at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!   
> Happy New Year!


End file.
